


A Khaleesi for Calamity

by CandyassGoth



Series: Game of Thrones themed Marvel fics [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Dark Thor, Dubious Consent, Game of Thrones themes, Heimdall is not cruel, Intersex Loki, Khal Heimdall, Khaleesi Loki, Loki has low self esteem, Loki/Heimdall, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Meek Loki, Political Marriage, Vaginal Sex, asshole Odin, half breed Jotun Loki, ooc Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:06:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1351840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyassGoth/pseuds/CandyassGoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With war rising against the Vanir, Odin and Thor offer Loki to Khal Heimdall of Himinbjörg in exchange for his aid and his mighty army. Loki is glad to be able to help the war and save his people from destruction, and thank Odin for saving him from death as a babe, but he's no less frightened of the might of his new husband and position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Khaleesi for Calamity

**Author's Note:**

> I had a rush of ideas this past week and Heimdall/Loki was one of them, and I happened to be watching Game of Thrones, and thus, this was born. I had been dying to make Loki a Khaleesi for a while now and though Thor seemed like the perfect Khal, I’ve overused his dick lol.
> 
> Khal!Heimdall and Khaleesi!Loki. Loki is not entirely Jotun, but a product of much interbreeding. 
> 
> I did not in fact base Loki’s personality off Daenerys, rather I viewed a Loki brought up in abuse. He was abandoned of course, and Odin found him. Being an asshole, he raised Loki as inferior to them, but superior to their people for the pretence so that one day he could marry Loki off as his son and receive something in return. They demeaned and oppressed Loki on purpose in fear of his Jotun blood and thus he grew no self esteem, so he believes he’s weak and worth little. The Jotuns were wiped out years ago, leaving only half breeds here and there, Loki being one of them.  
>    
>  **Warnings: Ooc!Loki, meek!Loki, dub con sex, intersex!Loki, loss of virginity, asshole!Odin, dark!Thor. If anything here bothers or triggers you, do yourself a favour and go away. Tagging rape just to be safe.**
> 
> Typical Odin giving Loki away to a man he barely knows story. Porn smut fic. Mixed ideologies from GoT and Thor. Not meant to be entirely accurate. Taking lots of liberties in the name of Captain Ameri- I mean smut.
> 
> If you are ready to complain that Khaleesi Loki should be fierce and strong go write it yourself, this story is how it is. It’s written on a whim, just enjoy it.
> 
>   
> Please forgive spelling errors! <3

**A Khaleesi for Calamity**

“I don’t want to marry him. I don’t know him, or his people—”

“They are allies, that is enough.”

“He is imposing—”

“ _He_ is holding the key to our victory against the Vanir, that is all that matters—”

“Thor—”

Loki’s pleading cut short into a gasp as Thor grabbed him, shaking his arm with a painful grip. “I will hear nothing more. You will not talk your way out of this. We need his army and his knowledge. This is your repayment to father, remember?”

“I know.” Loki whispered as he shrunk in on himself. Thor loomed over him as if trying to show him what _imposing_ truly meant, frowning in his hard way. It was never good when Thor frowned. Thor was easier to be around when he was merry, when things went his way. But when he was frowning, Loki was usually the first to know.

“He _saved_ you, he gave you your life. It’s only—”

“—only right that I give it back, I know. I know.” It was his mantra, Loki has repeated it since he could talk. He nodded surely, his wet green eyes searching Thor’s face for mercy.

Slowly Thor released his grip, and ran his large hand down Loki’s arm, tracing the weak blue runes on his pale skin. “You should be glad father didn’t send you to work as a common whore. There is much more honour to be had in this.”

Loki didn’t have to like it, but Thor was right. He’d rather be a wife to a Khal than a whore. He just hoped they didn’t end up being the same thing.

“Yes, brother…”

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

The journey to Himinbjörg was long and arduous. It took nearly a fortnight of trekking through hard terrain and unstable surroundings. The men were grumpy and the horses grew weak, but for once Loki’s needs were the one’s put above all others. But it was not for him, it was for his husband-to-be.

His father made sure he was fed properly and suffered no injuries as the time drew nearer, and each night the servant girls would wipe him down with oils. His hair was combed gently, his feet were massaged, and he only walked as far as necessary, which was from his bed to his horse and back again. Water was provided all day long no matter where they were and when he was tired, he rode with Thor to lean on him for rest rather than falling off his horse.

They said he had to be in good shape for the Khal, as it was a Himin tradition that he arrive a picture of perfection, so that his despoilment by the Khal would be clear for all to see. Loki was being pampered and made flawless (more so than he already was) so the Khal could ravish him and leave his marks, and have him sit besides him for all his Himinmen to see and cheer. Loki hoped his own people would leave so they didn’t have to see it as well.

Though the journey was difficult, when Loki saw smoke on the horizon he wished they were back at their starting place. 

They soon entered into the Himin’s current camping grounds. Loki could not help his eyes straying to glance at the people sitting around their tents, holding their children, sitting with their lovers. The Himin were dark skinned people, like that of mud or coal. They had no trouble with the blare of the sun and lived without the need of abundance in trees. 

In return the people watched them quietly, men, women, children, watching the pale skinned guests. For a long time Loki had felt alien to his family and their people, their skin was bronzed and browned golden, whereas he was pearl white and covered in light blue Jotun runes. His skin would turn red and burn in the sun until it itched and peeled, rather than gaining colour like it normally should. But seeing the Himin, he realised he was much more like his family than they ever bothered to say.

He noted with a small comfort that the Himin had dark hair as well, much like his own. The Aesir were all mostly blond with blue eyes, ranging in shades. His black hair and green eyes were so very different. But again, when compared to the Himin, it didn’t seem so, and his white skin seemed all that more unnatural.

Near to the main grounds, they were met by the Khal’s general, Fury, a confident bald man with one eye, reminding Loki of his father. Loki didn’t want to know why he was called Fury, it automatically made him want to shrink, but he was assured unless the Khal said so, no man could harm him without being fed his innards. It was not a big comfort, for all he knew the Khal could find him useless and throw him to his men. He surely did not have qualities they respected (not even for his own people), and they were not a kind lot.

Fury was on horse back too, and gave Odin a superior look. Loki knew it was only the prospect of an army that Odin didn’t retaliate when met with the Himin’s apparently casual rudeness. 

“You’re a day late.” Fury said, in their tongue. His tone was filled with underlying buck, and his accent was strange, but his words were more than comprehensible.

Odin smiled grimly. “Apologies. Our horses had trouble with the terrain, it is much unlike that of Asgard.”

“Nothing comes without effort.” Fury said, then nodded his acknowledgement of them. He looked at Odin, then Thor, then Loki. He then turned his horse, and implied for them to follow. It wasn’t a long ride, not even a minute, and they had entered into the royal area where Khal Dall sat with his best warriors and their women and children.

They crowded their horses into the centre and Loki struggled to keep his view anywhere but on the Khal. He’d seen him before, when the Khal was passing by Asgard on a political trip to his other lands, but it hadn’t been long enough for so much as a conversation. All they had done was stare at each other until Loki felt naked in his tunic, and Odin felt jovial. This time he was covered much more modestly, wrapped in linen like a present, a gift. He was not sullied yet, and thus needed to remain hidden so only his man could gaze upon his bare purity.

Thor came to his side and lifted him off his horse, planting him carefully down on the ground. The extra caution was noted, but with the Khal watching Loki supposed they couldn’t step out of place and risk losing the army, and quite frankly their lives. Loki did not want to be on the receiving end of a Himin blade, Thor had frightened him to death about how they knew how to gut a man so he survived through it just to feel the pain.

Fury climbed off his horse and gave Loki’s clothing a scrutinizing look. He nodded at Thor. “I see you took my advice.”

Odin flanked them. “We wish only to please the Khal, of course.”

Fury didn’t look all that convinced, but gestured forward. “Of course. Come.” 

Loki stumbled slightly as Thor forced him forward, knowing his brother well enough. Thor was warm and held an arm around Loki, as if presenting that he was still theirs, but Loki didn’t care. Thor was warm and he was brother and he was known and Loki didn’t want to leave it.

In the midst of a harem of females, sat Khal Heimdall. His face was composed, like it had been in their first meeting, revealing little. He was large and dark, covered in fine fur clothing held together by large pieces of brass and metal. Atop his head sat a large golden helmet that came up into two thick horns. Thor had once told him it symbolised the great oxen. 

He sat comfortable, slightly reclined, looking neither superior nor bothered by the women surrounding him. Loki had never seen so many breasts bared so brazenly, he had barely been able to show his own to mother Frigga when he started to bud.

Fury walked up besides Khal Dall. “Asgard hewa effowad, Khal. Komb Odin honsajr, Pfomca Thor, emd Pfomca Loki.”

Loki pressed into Thor when his name was said. He looked away quickly so not to catch eye contact.

“Thay efa jeta.”

“O kmiv. Hifsa tfi’quje.”

Heimdall’s voice paraded a richness unlike any Loki had ever heard, he hadn’t been sure what to expect in the first place, only that it would indeed be baritone. 

“Khal Heimdall gives his welcome, King Odin and Prince Thor.” Fury said to them, as the Khal nodded his greetings and respect. In Asgard one was to stand when giving greeting or acknowledgement, Loki had been smacked many times until he learnt to do so. But the Khal sat calmly, his hands curled around the armrests of his chair as if he were sitting and watching the stars. Loki wondered what Odin would say if Fury was not here to understand him. 

In response they all bowed slightly. “Thank you, Khal Heimdall, for the kind welcome. We have been travelling for days, we apologize for being late. The land was not kind to us.” 

Again Fury turned to Heimdall and translated what Odin had said. Heimdall replied smoothly, watching them with eerie golden eyes.

“Khal says you may relinquish your horses for food and treatment until you leave tomorrow. They shall be well taken care of.”

“That is most hospitable, thank you.” Odin allowed for their horses to be taken away, leaving them looking rather naked in the middle of the Himin tribe. They were all fully armoured of course, carrying their weapons and covered in steel. All but Loki. 

Loki watched sadly as his horse went off. At least the Himin had horses, Loki loved horses. He hoped he could keep the one he had, or at least be given a new one to ride. Would he be allowed to ride? 

“As promised Loki was treated with your instructions.” Odin said, and Fury passed it on. They shared a few foreign words again, leaving everyone from Asgard in the dark. Then Heimdall sat up straighter and gestured to Loki.

Fury mimicked the gesture. “Khal wishes his bride closer.”

Without reservations Thor led Loki forward. The Himin tribes-people watched with big eyes, unabashed as they stared into his pale lined face. “There is not a flaw to be found.” Thor declared confidently. Loki wished he wouldn’t say that, what if he cut his finger on Thor’s armour at some point? He’d be the one to blame for lying to the Khal.

From this close there was no avoiding the Khal’s eyes without being rude, and unlike the Khal who could sit and greet them, he couldn’t dare look away as if he had the right to. He stood stiffly, unable to do more than keep his fear from showing.

Despite that the Khal seemed humbly satisfied, exchanging low words with Fury as they stared at him. How would they ever speak? How would Loki ever try to reason with him, or simply tell him he’s hurting him, or that he was thirsty? Loki could speak three languages but Himin was not one of them. Perhaps he would learn, he was good at learning, he could do that well at least.

Fury then straightened. “The Khal is satisfied. Please make yourselves comfortable, the feast will begin soon.”

Unlike Asgard, there was no complicated ritual to bestow marriage. No rings, no vows, no offerings to the gods. Maybe they wanted to see if he was good enough first. 

Within seconds the Himin folk made space, slaves bringing forth more soft things for their guests to sit on. Odin and Thor got the best ones, as they did with everything else. Some of the Himinwomen found their way into the Asgard warriors’ laps, most of their flesh bare and on display. 

And while Loki’s skin was all hidden, he felt more naked than them all. Fury had collected him from Thor and sat him besides Heimdall in a chair brought out especially for him. The women had moved back and oddly didn’t seem all that upset about it. Loki remembered countless times when women broke into vicious fights over Thor’s attention. Perhaps the Khal had the time and stamina to keep them all satisfied…

Pushing the thoughts of the night away, Loki was glad when he was presented with a tray of food. It was all meats, but he had no quarrel, he rather loved meat over foods from the earth. Father said it was the Jotun in him, but when eating juicy meat he couldn’t find the will to care. He smiled in thanks to the woman and reached to pick out a piece, when Fury grabbed his wrist.

“It is customary on your betrothal night that your husband chooses your piece for you.”

“Oh,” Loki flushed red, and stuffed his hand into his lap when he was released. He peeked shyly at Heimdall, but there was no frown on his dark face. He said nothing as he regarded Loki, as if he were a rock on the ground, then turned to the tray.

To Loki’s surprise, Heimdall picked out a decent piece and offered it to him. He hesitated, then accepted it with both hands. 

“Thank you,” he said, watching Heimdall remain unreadable. He looked at Fury, “How do I thank him?”

“You will thank him tonight.”

Loki looked at his lap.

Heimdall took two large pieces for himself and the dancing and singing began. Loki didn’t understand any of it, but the people looked happy, both their people, and that was what mattered. Odin had saved him from death as a babe, and now he was grown enough to give thanks for his life, by saving the lives of his people. With the Khal’s army Thor and Tyr would lead them against the Vanir and win the war, kill all those that oppose, and recruit those that surrender. It was his great sacrifice to his people, they honoured and thanked him for it before they departed. It made him feel good to know it is because of him his people would be safe, but it was no less a struggle.

He didn’t know what meat he was eating, but it was flavoured with delicious spices and it was succulent. When he looked around he saw that manners weren’t a big problem, so he happily licked his fingers when he was done. Odin wouldn’t dare storm over and smack his fingers now. 

Another woman, he thought (he wasn’t calm enough to recall such unfamiliar faces), came with a cup and a large goblet of a mysterious drink. Loki looked to Heimdall.

Calmly, the large man took both cup and goblet and poured it himself. The liquid was golden and frothing lightly, Loki could guess it was ale. He had never had a liking to it, but being drunk for tonight didn’t seem all that bad.

When the cup was filled Heimdall gave the goblet back and the woman left. He slowly handed over the cup, watching Loki closely.

Loki reached to take it. Their fingers brushed and he flushed red all the way to his neck. “Th-thank you. Khal.” He added, just to be sure. He tried to look grateful, and decided he would first learn their greetings and pleasantries.

Loki made sure to finish his drink, it was not as bad as he thought, and remained quiet as the celebration went on. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but as soon as the sky was sprinkled with stars, another woman approached him. Loki knew he had not yet been faced with this woman for she had white skin too, flaming red hair and a most beautiful face.

She bowed to the Khal, then to Loki, then back. “Khal Dall, cem O hajp Khaleesi ti pfapefa?”

She was definitely not Himin, nor Aesir or Vanir. Her accent was foreign even to Loki.

The Heimdall nodded and looked at Loki. Loki looked back at him nervously, then to the woman.

“Come with me, prince, I will settle you into your tent for tonight.”

“You speak my tongue.” Loki said, astonished.

“I speak many tongues. Come.”

Loki looked at his husband for permission, and it was granted with a gesture of his large hand. At least he was used to large hands from Thor.

Slowly, as he was taught, Loki rose and let the woman take his hand. Again he looked at the Khal for some sort of response or command, but he seemed at ease. The woman led him away then, from the bustle to his tent a few yards away. She opened the flap and let him in first.

It was not the abode he was used to, a strong wind could surely rip the entire covering away, and there were furs on the bedding rather than as rugs on the floor. Well there were on the floor too, but their universal use here seemed to be for comfort, rather than decoration.

“I am Natasha.” 

Loki turned, and repeated the foreign name oddly on his tongue. 

“I’ve never seen anyone with Jotun blood. The last Jotuns died a long time ago.” She said, approaching him. She openly studied him, following his rune lines with her eyes until they disappeared beneath his clothes.

“Father says I hit back.” Loki mumbled, knowing his Jotun blood was nothing to be proud of. As far as the public knew, he was Odin’s blood son that had the misfortunate of being born with old blood thought to be bred out of their line, but it wasn’t quite true. He quickly changed the subject. “What land are you from?”

“Midgard. I was captured while travelling, looking for work. I like to consider myself a linguist when not a whore.”

Loki stared back at her, but like the Khal, they were hard to decipher. “…Are you his?”

“Not personally, but he enjoys exotic flesh.” Natasha looked down pointedly, and started to undo his bindings. He stood still. “I’m going to be your lead servant hand, as I speak your language. If you need something, ask it of me, and I will see that it’s done.”

Loki stared past her head as she peeled off his clothing. “Fury speaks it too.”

“Fury is smart, he knows knowledge is power.”

“…It’s not enough power if my father seeks this army.”

“Your father is a cruel man. It is known across the lands, even in Midgard.”

“He…he does what is best.” 

Natasha did not reply, and stared down at his naked body, linen pooled around their feet. His cheeks burned, but he stared defiantly past her. She was a woman, she had what he did, and if she were a whore she knew what men had. The Himin were not modest, he would have to learn that too. He knew little of Midgard, but maybe she could tell him how she had learnt. 

“Do you want some advice? For tonight?” She was looking up at him, reaching past his ear to play with his hair. She looked strangely calm, but then one of them had to be.

Loki nodded stiffly. There was no other answer.

“It’s okay to be afraid, it’s humbling, but don’t show reluctance. It’s an insult. No one should think themselves too good for the Khal.”

That was the last thing Loki would ever think. He pulled an incredulous face, but a more worrisome and pathetic question bubbled past his lips. “Will it hurt?”

“Yes. You may bleed too, but I’m not sure since you have Jotun blood.” Natasha shrugged, squeezing his arm in a soothing manner. Her words however made him tense, despite expecting them. He had led a sheltered life, and spent the last two weeks being pampered, the stress of being brutalised did not ease because he knew it would happen.

The worry was written all over his face. Natasha’s softened, and she grasped his hand. “You are brave, Prince Loki. You may not feel it, but standing here now takes bravery. The Khal will admire it.”

“Will he not prefer me grovelling at his feet?”

“I know the Himin are different, they are harsh, but if you hold your head high they will respect you. They already do, you are his _wife_ , their Khaleesi. Their queen.”

“I’m being married,” he agreed softly, “Not sold.” That did bring some comfort, but it did not guarantee safety, rather it strongly implied it.

“Yes. The Khal shall lie with none but you, he will protect and keep you well. You are no slave, Loki, you are now Khaleesi. Remember that, and the next time your father lays eye on you, you will be the one commanding these men.”

To that Loki frowned. “I wouldn’t be that optimistic.”

Before she could reply Heimdall entered into the tent, and Natasha gave his hand a last squeeze. She bowed lightly to him. “Good night, Khaleesi.”

Reluctantly Loki watched her go, despite her warning. She gave him a sense of familiarity and safety, she seemed so strong for one who called herself a whore, he wished she would stay. He watched her mumble what must have been a goodbye and ducked out, securing the flap back in place.

Then, they were alone in the silence, and Loki became extremely aware that he was incredibly naked, and Heimdall was incredibly large.

Loki jumped when his husband moved forward, but clenched his fists in an effort to stay rooted. He had to be good, this wasn’t just about him. He had a duty to his people, to all those little children who would be slaughtered by the Vanir if the Himin didn’t help them. And to get that army he had to be of satisfactory quality to the Khal. He didn’t know what valuable qualities he could possibly have, other than his unsullied body. But Thor had said it would be enough, so long as he was a good wife, and Thor was never wrong.

The patterns on the furs straight ahead became of high interest to Loki as he traced them with his eyes, and Heimdall started to circle him to do the same.

Up and down.

Left to right.

Head to toe.

When Heimdall clamped his hands on Loki’s shoulders from behind, Loki made a breathless sound and curled his toes. He stared defiantly at the hanging furs, trying not to take note of how warm those hands were, and how they left a warm trail down his arms. But his concentration wavered when Heimdall lifted his left arm and traced with his fingers his rune lines. Loki peeked to watch, seeing first the great contrast in their skin. He had never truly known how deathly pale he was, he looked like death! No wonder none of the men in Asgard had ever taken a liking to him, Thor had been right, his skin was not normal. 

There was no complaint from Heimdall, and he kneaded his fingers into Loki’s arm. His hands were huge, encasing Loki’s forearm with ease.

Then Heimdall released his hand and ran his fingers from the small of Loki’s back to his shoulders, inciting a deep shudder.

“You are fascinating.”

Loki jumped and looked sharply over his shoulder. “You speak my tongue?”

Heimdall met his gaze, his eyes like molten gold. “I do.” His hands roamed gently down the soft expanse of Loki’s back, but Loki was too surprised to feel it. 

“But…why had you never…?”

“What is said to what is translated often loses its true meaning.”

Loki gawked; all this time the Khal had understood their words. Loki had only met him once but Odin and Thor had had a few meetings with him in which Fury or their own translator would send their words back and forth, and Heimdall did have a point. There was no way the translators would pass on implied insults and curses. 

“You understood us all along?” Loki turned back to that interesting piece of fur, and inhaled through his nose as Heimdall slid his hands around his petite waist. Heimdall’s voice was even richer when his words were comprehensible, it demanded authority. Loki didn’t know what to think. Was this good or bad? Was it a doorway for his harm if the Khal ordered things of him he couldn’t bring himself to do? A least if they couldn’t communicate properly there was little to be expected than opening his legs and sitting obediently besides him.

Heimdall’s fingers slipped into the grove of Loki’s hips, his finger tips almost meeting beneath Loki’s navel. “It is a direct way to spy on those from far lands.”

“…Why do you reveal it now?” Loki whispered. His nipples were hard now, thanks to his shivering from Heimdall’s attentions and the cold of the night’s air. 

“You are mine, your loyalties are to me and our people now. I trust you will honour me and tell no one?” Heimdall leaned into Loki’s left side, and spoke into his ear. 

Loki knees shook, and his breath escaped him. “Yes, of course.” Again, there was no other answer he could give

“Good boy.” Heimdall breathed into his ear. He started circling his rough palms around Loki’s stomach in a teasing manner, never too low or too high. “Knowing your enemy more than they believe you do is a better weapon than a sword.”

“The Himin do not wield swords.” Loki thought about the Himin blades in distaste, they were crude and dangerous weapons. He couldn’t even imagine wielding one. Perhaps he could learn. But father had never let him touch a sword, maybe it would be the same here…

Heimdall chuckled. “No, we don’t but your father still requires our army.”

“Yes.” Loki nodded distantly.

“I wish to see it.” Heimdall said, suddenly, and his hands stopped moving.

Loki stopped breathing. “…I’m sorry?”

“Your womanhood. I wish to see it. I have only ever heard myth on your kind, the Jotun never roamed our lands during their time.”

Loki knew what the answer was, but this time he couldn’t verbalise it. He felt a painful twitch of fear and sadness knowing that the Khal could command anything of him now that they could communicate directly. And it was already starting. What was he to do? How did the Himin do such things, he knew not there ways? Did Heimdall expect him to just throw up a leg? No one had seen his womanhood since he was a babe, save for the old woman that checked him for purity when Odin ordered it for the Khal.

The silence crept on, making Loki more nervous as each second ticked by. Heimdall was waiting for a reply, but Loki couldn’t give it. He tried to look back to show his inability, but each time he looked away with his cheeks flaming, mouthing like a stupid fish.

He must have gotten his message across though. Heimdall turned him around towards their bed and guided him forward, saying nothing about his stumbling stiff legs. When they reached it, rather than placing him on the bed, Heimdall placed a hand on his back.

“Bend over. Open your legs.” 

Loki’s face went red and he shut his eyes. His jaw trembled, his hands shook, but he leaned over and placed his palms on the bed. _Don’t be reluctant don’t be reluctant don’t be reluctant_ , he chanted to himself, and opened his eyes at the feel of soft fur. The bedding held a mixture of white and brown furs, but definitely not that of horse or sheep. Maybe wolf? He wasn’t sure, but it was incredibly soft.

The hand on his back pressed him down further when he thought he had gone down enough, pushing him until his thighs rested on the side of the bed and his face touched the bedding. He rested his chest down as well, his hands bunched up in the furs, and stared to the left. 

Solid hands pulled out his hips a little, his back arching further down into the bedding so that he was left exposed and vulnerable. Loki’s heart took off speeding, his hands shook, his stomach was trying to disappear into itself, and he struggled to breathe. He lifted himself a little higher on his toes as Heimdall kept adjusting him, seemingly unhappy. His eyes watered and he panted into the bedding. He was at Heimdall’s mercy, he could tear through him right now and he’d be helpless to stop it. Could he beg for reprieve seeing as Heimdall spoke his tongue? Or would his pleas only give him pleasure?

Then there was a hot hand on his slit. He let out a frightened sob, but reeled it back in the second afterwards. He did not want to offend this man while he was still behind him. Loki remained dead still, not brave enough to find out if he had.

But then the hand disappeared, letting the cold air tickle him. There was shuffling, but only when there was a loud clang did Loki realise he was undressing, dropping his clothing and weapons. Loki wanted to crawl onto the bed and sit on his backside, hide it from the world. 

Before long Heimdall’s hands were back on him, cupping his backside and using his thumbs to part his labia further. The warmth of Heimdall’s hands was startling in comparison to the cold air assaulting his wet slit. It only served to remind Loki what Heimdall could see, and he buried his face into the furs in shame.

One hand slid up to rest on the small of his back, and the other pressed firmed between his folds, this time igniting a surprised mewl. A shock of pleasure jolted up Loki’s spine and his head lifted in response. Whatever Heimdall’s fingers did, they did it again, squeezing, and his knees shook, a twitch sparking into his cock.

“ _Ooh_ …”

“Fascinating.” Heimdall murmured, dragging his thick finger up past Loki’s entrance to his taint. Then suddenly he grabbed Loki’s hips, giving Loki a heart attack, and pulled him from the bedding. He pulled Loki upright and flush against him with a light _smack_ , pressing his hardness into Loki’s back.

Loki panted angrily, and again lost his breath as Heimdall reached up and cupped his tiny breasts. His nipples were sensitive and ached slightly against the rough palms, but Loki said nothing as Heimdall squeezed them experimentally.

“I was led to believe the Jotun had large chests.” Heimdall said over his shoulder, looking down at his body.

Loki swallowed, and reluctantly followed his gaze. “I-I’m sorry.”

“It was not a complaint. It was an observation. They will swell with children.”

Loki looked at him, surprised, but he started grinding against him, and Loki’s breath hitched. He did not know how Heimdall managed to keep such a straight face. “Y-yes.”

“Will you bear for me?” Heimdall asked, dipping his nose into Loki’s neck. He inhaled deeply, humming at Loki’s scent. Loki’s skin goose-bumped embarrassingly and he moaned as Heimdall pressed into his backside whilst pulling his chest back.

“Yes.” He managed to breathe, his mind outlining the size and length of the cock pressing against him.

“Will you?” Heimdall sucked a spot on his neck lightly, teasing, and blew the wet spot.

It was becoming hard to breathe again, but Loki was comforted with the Khal’s strong frame behind him should he fall. “Y-yes, Khal.”

“You look like winter and yet darkness. White and blue, but you are warm.” Heimdall turned Loki around by the hips, forcing Loki to stare into his face. “Your eyes are like our fields, lips the colour of blood.”

Loki was sure it was supposed to be a compliment, but what was there to truly compliment on him? He looked like a witch of death. 

Smiling for the first time, Heimdall retracted his hands and turned. He walked off to the other side of the tent, and Loki stared at the nakedness of the Khal, who was not in short supply. He had the sudden urge to grab his clothes off the floor and cover his body.

But then the larger man lifted a shiny object from a bundle of cloth, and brought it forward. It was another golden helmet, similar to Heimdall’s, but this one looked smaller in mass and its horns were tall and curved backwards, reminding Loki of an exaggerated goat’s horns.

It was no doubt beautiful, and Loki realised Heimdall still wore his helmet, his body bare. Loki wasn’t surprised when Heimdall handed him the helmet. 

“I must wear this?”

“Yes. Every Khaleesi wears something special to match the Khal to state her position. This will be yours.”

Loki turned the horns around in his hands, and looked up to compare. “…Your horns…they represent the mighty oxen?”

“Yes.” Heimdall looked slightly amused, as if watching something endearing. Loki looked back at his.

“…If I am your bride…am I to be the cow?”

To this Heimdall laughed. “Cows don’t usually have horns in our land.” He took the helmet back and eased it onto Loki’s head, lifting his chin when he was done to see his face. “And you are no woman.” 

Loki gasped through his nose a second into the kiss, and shut his eyes. He responded tentatively, allowing the Khal to take what he wanted. The helmet was not too heavy but it would need some getting used to.

Then the ground disappeared and he screamed in fright, grabbing on wildly to Heimdall’s shoulders. Heimdall laughed as their helmets collided, lifting Loki beneath the junction of his thighs and backside. His legs were spread and forced around Heimdall’s hips, but instinct guided him to cling rather than risking falling.

Just like his elevation, his decent into the bedding caught him by surprise. His legs fell open and his hands found their way to Heimdall’s chest. It was warm and solid, like thick moulds of clay, littered in hair and a few battle scars. 

As if he weighed nothing Heimdall pushed him up the bedding and opened his thighs further, exposing him brazenly. Loki blushed darkly, but his horns were making it difficult to turn his head. It forced him to watch as Heimdall’s hand reached between them, and he started to thumb Loki’s feminine sex. 

Loki made a strangled noise as Heimdall caught his clit, and shook his head as much as his helmet allowed, blinking his wet eyes rapidly. The hand on his thighs squeezed, making him jump, and he felt his cunt clench in response to the fingers stroking his folds. His cock was fast filling with blood, but he was too unsure to take hold of it.

Then the hand disappeared and he made a disappointed sound. But it was for naught, as Heimdall lifted his hips slightly, and lowered his face into his sex.

There was no hope of stopping the cry spilling from his lips. Loki clawed at the furs and watched bug-eyed as his Khal mouthed at his wetness, gently, sucking his skin before lapping the other side and repeating. Tears filled his eyes and he made a series of helpless whimpers as he watched the movement of Heimdall’s horns. 

Before long Heimdall reached his clit and sucked on it, pressing his tongue and doing things Loki had never even imagined. He didn’t know how his hands found Heimdall’s horns but they seemed to be doing him right, pushing his head down further into his wet heat. His cock was straining against his stomach but he resisted. He had been taught it was okay to touch his penis to please himself, but not his vagina as that was to remain unsullied for his marriage night, but once married he wasn’t to touch his penis unless given permission.

Loki started to pant hard, bucking his hips as Heimdall’s tongue teased his entrance. He was clenching, needing, throbbing—

Then a shot of cold air hit his wet cunt, his hands were plied off Heimdall’s horns. He lay stiffly, his hands twitching in Heimdall’s, his legs splayed open as if he were a whore, and for a moment he wondered if all whores felt such pleasure all the time. Coating Heimdall’s mouth and chin was a wet sheen, his juices he realised, and he moaned pitifully. 

“You’ve a good voice on you, you should use it.” Heimdall said, manoeuvring Loki’s hips and resting them on his thighs. Loki’s knees fell toward his chest and he became painfully aware of the thick cock that did not belong to him. It was standing tall and proud against his taunt stomach, thick and dark, promising a world of pain. His balls were large and heavy, covered in hair and making Loki want to curl in his legs and hide away his shameful tufts of hair. 

There was no time for that though, and Heimdall leaned over slightly, taking hold of his cock and aiming it. Loki squirmed, looking from his cock to his face repeatedly, wishing he could stop him, if only for a moment—but Natasha’s warning rang through his mind; he didn’t want to be brutalised out of punishment. 

Still, when Heimdall’s cock nudged into his wet entrance, he stiffened. His hands clambered for purchase on Heimdall’s shoulders and he strained to watch, transfixed, as his husband pressed in. He held his breath, feeling his lips stretching oddly around the bulbous head, then released it in a loud cry as Heimdall drove in. 

It was not deep, but Loki had never been breached before and he was tight, and Heimdall was large. Reluctance be damned, he panicked and shoved against Heimdall’s chest, grunting with grit teeth so not to break down and cry. The strength in his efforts surprised them both and Heimdall grabbed his hands and secured them down on his stomach with less effort. His face was calm again, neither smiling nor frowning, but he did not stop, and once Loki’s hands were secure in his left, he adjusted Loki’s hips with his right before pushing in further.

Loki cried out at the stab of pain and kicked his legs, but it only hurt further. The stretch was as tight as he feared it would be and yet felt nothing like he expected. He grit his teeth in a whine, blinking away his tears and unable to properly turn his head thanks to the helmet. Heimdall loomed above him, not looking into his face, and Loki was grateful for it. The pleasure had ebbed away and all he could feel was the Khal’s cock spearing open his channel. It was the oddest feeling he had ever had, he was sure it was making its way into his belly. Every breath, in or out, forced him to acknowledge the cock driven into his core, and he squealed when it finally hit into his cervix. It was not very pleasant. 

His discomfort was not a secret, his every grunt made it clear but Heimdall soon began a rhythm, ploughing in with a low groan of satisfaction. Loki’s breasts bounced lightly with each thrust, and he clenched his fists, unable to do much other as he took what would now become his duty. 

_For the children, for the families, for his father, for his land._

Thrust,

_For the children_

Thrust,

_For the families_

Thrust,

 _For his father_

Thrust, 

_For his land_

“I said, you have a good voice, Loki.”

Loki met his gaze nervously, it was the first time Heimdall had said his name. There was now pleasure strewn across his face, his breath paced as he thrust. Loki focused his own breathing, and realised he’d been making an effort to keep quiet. His grunts were soft, softer than the sounds coming from between his legs. 

What was he expected to do? Scream and cry for the whole village to hear? For his father to hear? He didn’t want to do that.

“I-I’m trying.” He breathed, he lied.

Heimdall didn’t question him further, and continued on. He leaned over and nuzzled Loki’s throat, and finally released Loki’s hands so he could lean over him on both palms.

Loki struggled to keep his breath, and quickly took hold of Heimdall’s hard waist. He was nothing but muscle, raw power.

As if reading his musings the thrusting increased, making his entrance ache with renewed vigour. He whined, looking up with a pain expression, but Heimdall said nothing and looked back into his eyes in a calm manner. And as odd as it felt, it calmed Loki in return.

Slowly, Heimdall dipped and captured Loki’s lips, worlds gentler than his thrusting. He kissed around his chin, edging down his throat. 

“Touch yourself.” He ordered. “The womb takes in more during climax.” 

Loki did so immediately, trying not to think about the possibility of becoming pregnant on his first night. He took his cock in hand, then released it, then grabbed it again. Did Heimdall mean his cunt or cock? He couldn’t bring himself to ask, so he eased his free hand back down, and felt for his clit as well.

It was simple to find seeing as Heimdall’s cock filled the rest of his cunt, but he blushed, abashed as his fingers brushed against the manhood fucking into him. His fingers were shaking, but the second they pressed against his nub it made all the difference in the world.

“ ** _Ooooh!_** ”

“...Truly beautiful,” Heimdall replied, smiling again. 

Loki moaned a confused moan at him, but kept pressing, and started to pump his cock. The added pleasure made his back arch awkwardly into Heimdall and he cried out, impaling himself further. He was still tight, it wouldn’t ease in one night, but the pleasure was now more than enough to distract him. In fact, it made the thrusts desirable and his cunt squeezed and _ooh_ it was _good_ -!

“Circle your fingers. Back and forth, don’t be scared, Khaleesi.” Heimdall murmured against his throat, circling his own hips as Loki unknowingly took him deeper in his passion.

Loki shut his eyes and did as he was told, bravely rubbing over his clit. His fingers rubbed up against Heimdall’s cock but he didn’t seem to mind, and somehow the glide made it more intense. His fingers became slick and he took a second to switch his hands around so that he could pump his cock with a smoother touch.

In his pleasure Loki started to clench actively around the already tight hold he had on Heimdall’s cock, and while Heimdall was enjoying this immensely, he would not last much longer with Loki singing so beautifully.

“Climax with me,” he ordered, this voice thick and husky. Loki shuddered and nodded obediently. The thrusts became punishing and pain spiked again, but he stuck it out with little choice, whining and moaning and grunting as his little entrance took its new master, and took it deep. 

Heimdall hit up against him hard, his balls slapping his backside and he grunted loudly, circling his hips, and Loki knew he was spilling his seed inside of him, in the most basic of rituals, the most primal of desires. The thought set off his own climax and he stiffened, his cunt and balls clenching deliciously as he spilt his own seed over his stomach. Heimdall kept rolling his hips, his dark brows knitted as he came, and came, and came.

Eventually he rose up, and as the light returned from the candle Loki felt as if he had been smothered in darkness. His hands felt stuck to his genitals, and he stared down, mesmerised by the size inside him. Heimdall followed his gaze with another satisfied sound and slowly withdrew until the head popped out, a heavy stream of seed following after. 

Sex dazed, Loki dipped his fingers into the sticky mess sliding out of him, and lifted his fingers. There was blood mixed up in it, the more diluted of it turning a slight pink. At first he couldn’t quite see the blood on Heimdall’s cock because of his dark skin, but when his mind sped up and flashed the colour red at him he finally saw it, smeared lightly. He looked at it in a distant way, as if it were a vague thought, and looked up to meet his Khal’s golden eyes.

There was a smile on Heimdall’s face. Was it satisfaction? Was it affection? It might be both, but neither were cause for alarm and Loki lay limp, dropping his hands back into his crotch. He felt utterly spent, raising a finger now would feel like a journey. 

The Khal then shifted out from between his legs and moved to sit besides him. He lifted off his helmet and placed it on the ground over the side of the bed, and turned to remove Loki’s. Loki groaned and dumped his head back into the bedding when he was free, and turned his head to watch his husband. Said man took both of Loki’s hands and brought them up, simultaneously closing his legs and tugging his hips so that Loki lay on his side, facing him. He then lay down and brought a fur over them, and finally draped a thick arm over Loki’s waist.

Loki watched sleepily, and curled his hands beneath his chin. Heimdall’s warmth was much too enchanting, lulling him into sleep despite the multiple aches forming, not to mention the sting between his legs.

He was more than ready to let sleep claim him but Heimdall had him locked in a gaze. Loki was sure he looked as worn out as he felt, whereas Heimdall was breathing softly as though he had just walked into the tent. They stared silently at one another for a long while, until Heimdall spoke. 

“I like your lips.”

“…They’re thin.” Loki whispered with a tiny frown. Heimdall’s were much plumper than his.

“They are red. I like that.”

If he was happy, then that was all that mattered. Loki blinked tiredly, exhausted enough to agree to anything. Sleep was calling him by the second, but Heimdall squeezed it away for the moment, pressing his fingers into Loki’s back to nudge him closer.

“You will never leave my side, Khaleesi.”

Tentatively, Loki placed his hands on Heimdall’s chest. “I hope to please you.”

“I would rather not hear your father from your beautiful lips. We’re a hard people, you must learn to be too.”

Loki’s brows formed a frown. “…I’m not strong like Thor.” He said, and thought about all Thor’s victories and merits.

Heimdall smiled, and pulled Loki up against him by his hips. “I’d like to see him handle being taken by a Khal and lie speaking afterwards.”

Loki went red and buried his face into Heimdall’s chest. Heimdall’s squeezing made the seed creep out of him, making him blush harder, and he mashed his face into the musky skin.

“Look at me.” Heimdall ordered, making Loki groan. When Loki didn’t obey, Heimdall hooked his fingers around Loki’s jaw and lifted his face. He thumbed Loki’s cheek, and drank in the beauty of his face. “…You are beautiful. Say it, Loki.”

“Why?” Loki breathed.

“Do not question me.”

“Sorry…” Loki flinched, but seeing no anger, and having experienced no true wrath, Loki wiggled back in a submissive manner and smiled mischievously. “…You are beautiful.” He repeated.

To his immense relief Heimdall grinned, a rather handsome sight, and tucked Loki beneath his chin.

“See? There is strength in you. I saw it the moment you were presented to me.”

Loki didn’t believe that (Him strong? Please…), but who was he to tell the great Khal he was incorrect? If Heimdall thought him beautiful, he was to be thankful. If Heimdall thought him ugly, he was to apologise. He knew he should be grateful that he was receiving compliments and not insults, but he feared the day the Khal saw him as he truly was, and not as a young bride recently despoiled. The novelty would surely wear off soon.

But the Khal hugged him close until all Loki could hear was his strong heart, and maybe, just maybe, he would learn to be strong too.

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

**Author's Note:**

> Loki is totally strong he just doesn’t know it yet. 
> 
> I couldn’t have Heimdall be a hard Drogo. Thor probably, but somehow…not Heimdall.
> 
> Also, if any of my readers from Battle of the Bride read this, I apologise for the delay of that fic, but I had to get out this damn idea before it drove me crazy!
> 
> Feel free to point out any spelling errors, I am really sorry about those~


End file.
